


The Art of Hiding in Plain Sight (An Important Piratical Lesson)

by Kisleth



Series: Of Piratical Notions, Faulty Compasses, and the Resulting Misadventures on the High Seas [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirates, Blowjobs, Interrogation, M/M, Muffled Sex, Secret Relationship, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 16:53:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1717796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisleth/pseuds/Kisleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Could play hard-to-get,” Clint replies, kissing along his neck, “stay in the brig and you could drag me away in the early morning when the ship is quiet and only the watch is awake.”</p>
<p>It’s too tempting but very risky. As much as he’d love the chance to spend the time laying in bed with Clint. “Can’t,” his voice is heavy with regret.</p>
<p>“I could kidnap you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Hiding in Plain Sight (An Important Piratical Lesson)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sidneybelveire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidneybelveire/gifts).



> Thank you to Amireal for the super speedy beta at no o'clock in the morning to make sure this is coherent.
> 
> As always, for sidneybelveire, who is drawing me things for this verse and I can't wait for them to be up and shared with you all!

There is nothing quite like the freedom of the ocean. It’s Phil’s favorite place to be. Station and proprieties disappeared and everyone had to work their fair share. He took watches, he hauled line, he didn’t care that he was a Vice Admiral and let his crewmen call him ‘Captain’. (It’s easier, so much easier, and the mouthful of syllables is never missed. It was first implemented after they’d wasted precious time and lost an officer to someone delaying a message for the sake of being proper.)

The nights are a lot quieter too. He doesn’t have events he’s required to go to nearly every night. He can easily retire into his own space without having to make excuses. He can relax and plot out routes and sort rumors of piracy and track their merchants as their cross the ocean.

He’s going over the logbooks from past years when there is a polite but sharp rap on his door. “Come in.”

Phil’s first mate enters first. “Vice Admiral, sir!” Jasper Sitwell salutes him and even that is telling him that they have an unexpected _guest_. Phil nods at him and waves his hand in a gesture to say _at ease_.

“First Mate Sitwell?” Phil raises an eyebrow and Sitwell steps aside, revealing two crewmen holding a shackled pirate between them.

“Found him in port,” the corner of Sitwell’s mouth ticks up. “It’s the scallywag who escaped us last time. Thought you might like to continue your interrogation?” Phil’s no fool. He’s certain Sitwell has noticed what goes on between him and the aforementioned scallywag. He likes Sitwell, he’s irreplaceable, it’s why he’s one of the very few crewmen he hasn’t released back into the rotating pool of able-bodied Navy men.

Slowly, Phil is accruing his perfect team.

“Very well.” Phil nods to the chair in front of his desk, one of many things that are bolted down in his office. Between the feet are steel loops to hook the shackles to and the men waste no time in securing the man to the chair. “Dismissed.” His eyes never leave those of the scallywag.

The door shuts.

“You know they’re going to wait until you hit me,” the man murmurs.

Phil sighs and looks apologetic. He’d just as soon slap his own face, but it wouldn’t be loud enough, and it’d take too much time to shed his sleeves and slap his arm. “Forgive me?”

“Always.” The prisoner promises.

Phil slaps the man’s face and the sound of it cracks through the room. Together they wait a few breaths before Phil lowers to his knees, carefully cupping the man’s face.

The man leans into the tender touch. “Missed you, Phil.”

Phil carefully kisses the reddening cheek and presses their foreheads together. “Lord, me too, Clint.”

“I’ve information for you,” Clint begins but before he can say anything more, Phil’s sealed their mouths together. That is all fine and well, but he’s not seen his lover in over a month and he plans to make up for lost time. One of them whimpers into it and he can’t be pressed to figure out who.

“It can _wait_ ,” Phil nips sharply at Clint’s lip and the man shudders under his hands. Deft fingers tug the front of his shirt out of his breeches and unfastens every button the shackles allow him to reach. He knows it can’t wait too long, but he needs to take whatever he can get right now.

“Not if—”

Phil thrusts his tongue into Clint’s mouth to silence him as he pulls a key from his pocket to release the cuffs around Clint’s wrists. He half-stomps his foot and presses a hand to Clint’s stomach in a signal and Clint grunts as if in pain. He yanks the chains and drops them to the ground. As far as anyone listening thinks, he’s kicked the man to the floor.

“Let me ravish you before business.” Phil murmurs into Clint’s ear as he straddles him. He rocks their hips together and he’s sure he’s never grown so hard so fast in his entire life.

“Why, Philip,” Clint gasps as he rocks up, his hands firmly gripping his ass to grind them together. “I thought you were always business first.”

“I may have let wild rumors about your death get to me.” He bites at Clint’s neck but doesn’t dare leave that kind of mark. “Your Captain set me straight.”

Clint shoves his hands under Phil’s breeches and digs his nails into the muscled ass he’d been groping only seconds before. “Damn right she did.” Clint nips at Phil’s lips and Phil retaliates a little too enthusiastically and tastes blood. He pulls back, an apology ready on his mouth when Clint drags him forward and shuts him up with another hard kiss. “Good for cover,” he whispers against his lips.

“Wish I could drag you to bed,” Phil replies, rocking his hips against Clint’s, their erections drag over each other. Phil curses his inability to take him to his own bed and splay him out over the blankets to take him apart slowly.

“Could play hard-to-get,” Clint replies, kissing along his neck, “stay in the brig and you could drag me away in the early morning when the ship is quiet and only the watch is awake.”

It’s too tempting but very risky. As much as he’d love the chance to spend the time laying in bed with Clint. “Can’t,” his voice is heavy with regret.

“I could kidnap you.”

Phil makes a soft, disapproving sound. They’ve talked about this before. Because of his rank, that would be like painting a giant target on Natasha and her ship. They both know this too well. Before he can gently shut Clint down, however, he is jerked to his feet by Clint’s hands dragging him up. He’d never let go of his ass and is now using it to raise his groin to face height. Clint nuzzles Phil’s cock through his breeches.

He fists a hand in clint’s hair to balance himself and covers his mouth with the other. Between one breath and the next, his flies are open and warm, wet heat is wrapped around him and sucking. _Hard_. He bites his cheek to muffle himself more; he doesn’t know what reactions might surface after not having this for so long.

Despite their time apart, Clint swallows him down until his nose is poking Phil firmly in the pubic bone. Sucking cock seems to be a skill that Clint will never lose. His torso folds over Clint, the younger man’s forehead pressing into Phil’s stomach as he shudders. His fist slams into his thigh, hard, and with it he thrusts his hips involuntarily into Clint’s mouth. Clint grunts at the press of Phil’s erection, but it’s accidentally timed well enough. The noise makes Phil’s legs tremble as he keeps himself standing over Clint’s lap.

“Won’t talk?” Phil grits, trying his best to make himself sound hard and determined. He hasn’t been audible enough. If they’re too quiet, someone will come in. Blast, he’d even forgotten to lock the door.

Phil’s thoughts are derailed when Clint sucks harder and it’s been too long, too long. He spills down Clint’s throat and it’s only because he’s still folded over him that he hears the tiny hum of satisfaction from his lover. He pulls back, kisses him as he kneels, and buries his face into Clint’s lap.

“I-I won’t. You… you can’t make me.” Clint’s breath hitches as Phil pushes his legs apart. He jerks them out of Phil’s way as fast as he can, making the chains rattle. “Please…” Phil unfastens Clint’s pants and moves them out of the way so he can stroke over his cock. “Please, just let me go.”

“Not until you tell me what I want.” Phil strokes Clint quickly. He wants to bring him off as fast as he can. He doesn’t know how much time they’ll have and he’s afraid that they’ll be discovered. He always is.

Clint leans in and his voice is breathy and barely there, “I love you.” Phil’s hand spasms and he cups the back of Clint’s neck with his free hand. He drags him into a bruising kiss because he hadn’t been expecting that at all.

“Me too,” Phil’s lips brush over Clint’s as he speaks. It isn’t as though this is the first time Clint’s told him, but it’s said so rarely that it’s thrown him off.

“That what you wanted?” Clint’s hips twitch up into Phil’s fist. He releases his grip, making Clint whimper, to lick his palm until it’s slick. He grips Clint once more to stroke him off faster.

“Better.” He presses pecking kisses to his lover’s lips as Clint grips Phil’s shoulders and stifles his needy noises. “Let go, Clint.” At least as much as he can let go with who knows how many people on the other side of the door.

Clint surges forward, kissing Phil hard, and tightens his fingers in the epaulettes on Phil’s jacket. The kiss is devouring and wet, Phil sucks Clint’s tongue into his mouth and scrapes his teeth along it carefully, trying to get Clint to fall apart quickly.

It happens somewhere between a twist of his wrist as he runs his calloused palm over the sensitive head of Clint’s erection and the firm downward stroke. His hand is wet and sticky and Phil breaks the kiss only so he can lick the mess off of his hand.

The defeated, soft groan that escapes Clint could thankfully be construed either way, but Phil tucks Clint away and hides any evidence of what they’d done as quickly as he can. He’s wondering how on Earth he’ll be able to put the shackles back on Clint when the man in question slumps sideways and falls onto the floor.

Phil’s eyes are wide in alarm, but Clint just winks at him and holds his hands out for the cuffs. Phil rolls his eyes but smiles because if anyone could plan through their post-coital haze, it was Clint. Clint carefully relocks the cuffs around his own wrists as Phil drags him back into his chair.

They both give each other a practiced once over and when they’ve both nodded an ‘all clear’ to each other, Phil stalks to the door.

Sitwell is the only one standing outside, and he is a good few paces away with his back turned. “Take him to the brig.” Phil commands, his voice stern, sharp. He stands by the door, not daring to look at Clint once as Sitwell gathers two men to take Clint away.

He knows if he looks, he’ll blow everything. He can’t lose control and Clint is so very good at hindering his dedication. He remains standing clear of the door, staring out over the deck as Clint is dragged away. He struggles against the men holding him and Phil carefully turns his head to keep Clint out of his sight as he’s dragged off, but his hands are clenched hard behind his back.

“Learn anything, Captain?” Sitwell asks, staring out over the water just like Phil.

“Nothing of use.” Phil sighs and turns back to his office. “Maybe a night chained in the brig will loosen his tongue.”

“Maybe.”

Phil’s eyes snap to Sitwell because he’s certain he heard a smirk to his tone, but the man’s face is void of expression. He steps into his office and shuts the door, locking it behind him as he sighs heavily.

Now, how to focus on his work when all he wants to do is plot out how to smuggle Clint from the brig to his bed?

 


End file.
